Tag: blogger

It has been a month since my birthday and I was recalling how I was finishing up a last minute assignment the night before. I had a long day at university and I rushed home to get on with my assignment. I finished it up at 11:45 and was ready to pass out on bed. I am glad I called before I did but I am quite sure even if I hadn’t, you would have called at midnight. Because you had remembered it was my birthday when I had forgotten.

I was sleepy azz and wished you good night but you wouldn’t let me hang up. You kept talking when all I could respond with was hmmm and yeah. You pleaded to stay awake for 4 more minutes which confused my already sleep-deprived brain. Normally you put me to sleep but not that night. When I asked why, you blabbered with what you had been up to the whole day and when 4 minutes had passed, you suddenly wished happy birthday which woke me nice and proper. Well, also the fact that my phone pinged with notification at the same time, opened my shut eyes and when I rubbed my eyes to respond to you and my phone, I realised that you had sent me a poem. A heartfelt, beautiful and thoughtful poem that not only had you carved from your own thinking, but you had written so elegantly and beautifully. All this was too much for me to handle. The rush of emotions that came from within resulted in tears of happiness and I started weeping in joy. For I felt truly special. And cherished. And although you are miles away, I felt as if you were right next to me. How I wish you were, so you could see my giddy smile and excited heart. For even though, we both have grown old to celebrate birthdays, the gesture made me feel like a child again.

Recently my mum diagnosed me of the Sleeping Beauty syndrome.I would go to sleep early (well early for me is 12 am) and I would be unconscious till 1 pm except on uni days. Mum would try waking me up but I would be snoozing away in Fairy Land.And even when I woke up, I would feel lethargic all day, yawning in between conversations. For a young girl who only had to attend university 2 days a week, this behavior was slightly getting to my desi mum and hence she decided to book an appointment with the doctor to confirm her doubts.

The appointment was booked at 11:10 on a Tuesday. I was the one who had to make the call. The receptionist asked me all my details, medical history and booked in my appointment for “10 to 11”. I hate such terminologies : quarter to 1, quarter past 3 and all that. I mean why can’t you simply say 11:10 or 12:45 or 3:15. Why complicate it? The world is complicated as it is without people making it even more complicated. After I put the phone down, mum asked me what time did I get and I said 10 to 11. I swear the receptionist DID say 10 to 11 ok. But since my tone was a bit flustered, (I always get nervous when I am talking to a receptionist, or any stranger for that matter), mum decided to double check and called the receptionist the next day before driving me into the clinic. The receptionist says the appointment is booked at 11:10 not 10 to 11. ARRGGHHH!! I mean I know its just like 20 minutes difference but it made me sound like such an idiot.

We reached the clinic at exact time 11:10, the time my appointment IS, the time I am supposed to see the doctor but no, the receptionist smiles and asks me to take a seat. Which I dutifully do. After 10 minutes, mum says she shall go to the nearby Coles and have a look and asks me to call her once I am done. Mum goes, I watch the lounge TV for a couple of minutes, then start browsing my phone going through social media : Twitter,Facebook, etc.30 whole minutes pass and I suddenly realize that I was so engrossed that I might have missed my call. So I go to the receptionist and ask whether my name was called. She looks at her register and says no with a smile. That sickeningly sweet smile.I return to my seat. At 11:50, I hear my name being called out and I jump so quickly that everyone looks at me. The doctor was really sweet and she told me that my tiredness might be due to anemia.I would have to come the next day for a blood test after 8 hours of fasting. Oh joy.

Dear hospital staff, what is the point of appointments if you are just going to waste 40 minutes of my life? The doctor didn’t even apologize for calling me in late which they totally should do. I mean if you and your friend plan to meet up at a set time and one of you arrives late, don’t you apologize? Doctors aren’t even late to clinics. They are IN the clinics, in their cubicles probably playing Solitaire on their computer which is why every patient is waiting out in the lounge for 40 to 50 whole minutes. My younger brother Mikaeel had an ear pain and booked an appointment last week for 8:50 pm and got called in 9:50 p.m. OUTRAGEOUS!!! One time this patient came 10 minutes late for the appointment and the receptionist was like “You are late for your appointment. We shall have to reschedule”. Like whaaaat? If she came in early, the doctor would be late and she would be sitting in the lounge anyway. Might as well spend it in the car amongst traffic.

The whole doctor patient interaction takes about 10 minutes max, the patient leaves, doctors fill in report which takes 10 minutes and then what? Just because we are not emergency patients does not mean you can take your own sweet time. My mum reckons its a gimmick so that the clinics are jam-packed with people in the waiting lounge which shows how popular the clinic is or how good the doctors are for people to be flocking into the clinic. If that is true, then dear hospital staff, if I have a problem or I am writhing in pain, I won’t care about a clinic’s popularity. In fact I shall go to a clinic with fewer people so I can get attended to faster. Let me know what the reason is. It better be a good medical,scientifically proven valid reason because wasting 40 minutes of my life is not funny. Booking in appointments and calling in an hour late is not funny.Your receptionists who smile and say please take a seat when I arrive at time and who get confused between 10 to 11 and 11:10 are not funny.Most importantly the programs you show on TV in the waiting lounge are not funny. No, but seriously, you people should clean up on your act.

Target at Hoppers Crossing recently relocated to the Pacific Werribee and as part of its moving, it had a three day 75% off sale. I had always heard of people going crazy at Black Friday sales in America.There have been incidents of people getting trampled to death by the throngs of crowd just pounding into the stores like the stampede in Lion King.

Fortunately,we don’t have boxing day sales here in Australia. Why did I say fortunately? Read on.

Sale started Monday , the day I go to mentor kids at the Werribee Secondary College for 2 hours. My aunt called up my mum to inform her of the sale. Mum dropped me off at school and headed to Target to check out the buzz. I called up mum to ask her to pick me up after my mentorship training got over and mum said that she couldn’t pick me up as she was stuck in line to the counter and that she might not be able to come out even after an hour. So I called my aunt and she picked me up and dropped me at Target and wooooow!! I was just speechless. It was a whole new shopping experience I can tell you that. The store was practically empty but the employers would just bring out new stuff and people would rush to it like a pack of hyenas would attack a baby deer. Their eyes were as ravenous as a hungry lion and their hands as outstretched as a little child who had just seen their favourite toy at store.There was a huge line that started from the cashier snaking all the way around to the whole store ending at the entrance. My mum didn’t exaggerate when she said it was a kilometre long line. After a few minutes,I was able to locate my mum. Having secured the trolley, we decided to check out other stuff as well. Mum saw these bed sheets and decided to check whether it was for single, double, king or queen size and poof it was gone. Some one had snatched it right out of her hands!!! People were wild I tell you. You couldn’t differentiate between people and animals, such was the environment and the atmosphere. It almost seemed like everyone had lost their senses and were lusting after the discounted items. The funny thing was that most of these items were stuff people didn’t even need. Allow me to elaborate : So I am a size 7 and when I was checking for shoes my size, there were none to be found. Only the gigantic size 9s or the tiniest size 6s could be seen all over the shelves. I spotted these beautiful black heels in size 7 in some aunty’s hand and no, I wasn’t going to grab it out of her hand. Thankfully I hadn’t transformed into the mindless zombie who had forgotten all etiquettes. The aunty was busy trying to squeeze her foot into the heel.

It almost pained me to observe the whole thing and I was almost tempted to tell her that there was no Prince Charming who would come and rescue her if her shoe fit in the glass slipper, I mean black stiletto heels. After 5 minutes of torturing the feet and the heels, she finally gave up. I was almost delighted and had started fantasising of the heels in my hands until she exclaimed “Ehhh I shall give it to my sister. I can’t miss such a good deal”. ARRRGHHHHHH!!!

Mum and I were waiting in the line for a good hour, observing the whole craziness and pandemonium taking place. All of a sudden, we heard a lady groan in agitation and looked back to check what had happened. Apparently these group of Indian ladies had taken a friend of theirs under their wing. Understandably, the white lady behind would be upset. Having to wait in line for hours and then have someone jump the queue is not at all acceptable. But the newcomer wouldn’t and didn’t budge. After a while, a hijabi approached us and was about to ask if she could join us when the very same lady that had escorted her friend, started shouting at the top of her lungs accusing her of queue jumping and breaking the line and threatening to complain to the management. The hijabi lady looked around helplessly for a few seconds and then jumped out of the line, stashed away the clothes on a nearby rack and left. I was appalled and shocked at the attitude of the Indian aunty behind me. Her hypocritical nature had left me speechless. I wasn’t able to question her and I wish I had because it really should be one size fits all (You can tell I really really wanted those heels lol).

By the time, we left the store it was 3:30 in the afternoon. Mum had spent 6 hours and I, 2 and that was enough time for us to start questioning the world we live in. If a sale on materialistic items had ignited such passion and antagonistic feelings in humans, then we aren’t leaving a very good example for the generations to come.

So today is officially my one month anniversary of blogging. I am not that type of person who would be excited and bragging about anniversaries, or that I have 31 followers ,or that I reached a total of 205 likes on all my blog posts so far or the fact that my best number of views in a day was 32 on my blog (oops, I guess I just did hehe). Nope, I would rather be excited that I was able to keep my promise of blogging consistently 5 days a week for a month alhumdulillah(Still deciding which 2 days to blog on from now on. For now its Saturday and Sunday.)And so I decided to treat myself with a bit of froyo.

I had heard of the concept of frozen yoghurt by the girly YouTubers who make DIY videos and get ready with me’s and morning and night routines on their channel. They were raving about cookie dough frozen yoghurt. And so when Tutti Frutti opened up at Pacific Werribee (Werribee Plaza back then), I was the first one in line to try it out. And may I say it was the best thing ever especially with toppings. It has the sweetness and coldness of ice cream and health factor of yoghurt. Of course, my froyo doesn’t seem too healthy after I add choc-biscuits and wafer and all that jazz.

Tutti Frutti has various flavours of frozen yoghurts and they keep introducing new flavours. My all time favourite is chocolate and cookie n cream.

The best part about it though are the assortment of toppings. I am a huge pearl fan.

When you bite into a pearl, the sweet juice shoots into the back of your mouth directly into the esophagus (food pump/canal). Normally it works best with fruit flavoured froyos such as mango,blueberry and strawberry just because the pearls are fruit flavoured too but I have to have pearls in any froyo I choose. It IS the best.

Also for those who are concerned with the pearls being halal or not, just ask the staff and they will tell you. In my case, the person behind the counter took out the tub from the shelf and handed it over to me for me to peruse through the ingredients and fortunately, the pearls were of vegetarian origin.

Pros :

Taste yummy

Various flavours

Assortment of yummy toppings to choose from

Colourful spoons

Vegetarian pearls

Cons:

Pay by weight so if you load up on toppings like I do, you end up paying more.

All in all, the best dessert. Suitable for weight-watchers, and fun and yumm for kids.

There are some friends with whom you instantly connect and share all your laughs and sorrows and life’s every moment and with whom you become really close with and later can’t seem to recall how you met and became friends in the first place. Then there are others who just land in your life at the right moment and right time and with whom you wouldn’t have thought of getting close to but you do and you actually do remember how you two met. Beatriz fell in the latter category. Fell being the imperative word as that is what my funny and georgeous friend seems to do : fall.

I met Beatriz as I was rushing to Nutrition Principals lecture. As I rushed to open the door, I noticed a girl beside me and gave her way to enter before me. She said thanks with a wide smile & enquired whether I was heading to Nutrition lecture as well. Upon getting a positive nod, her smile grew even wider and we started chatting away by asking about each other. Over the course of next weeks, we both came to know about each other’s families (she is Brazilian),likes and preferences. She is my only friend who has had the honour of getting to know about my blog. Beatriz is such a sweet soul that she not only reads it regularly and gives me feedback but has also told about my blog to her friends in Brazil. Readers from Brazil, thank you for your support.

Anyway today’s topic is falling. No, not the autumn fall but the physical act of smashing to the ground. Last week when I met up with Beatriz, she wasn’t able to speak. She was choking on her words and gasping for air. No, she wasn’t dying. She had fallen while climbing the stairs, and was laughing so hard tears were streaming down her face as she recounted to me her epic failure of the basic etiquette of the climb. And even though, I hadn’t had the chance to actually observe the glorious moment in action, Beatriz was laughing so hard and she drew such a great visualisation, that I was rolled up on the floor, doubling with laughter. We two were like a bunch of lunatics, laughing loud and hard and were drawing stares from everyone present in the library. It was later when we packed our bags and headed to our tutorial that Beatriz was kind enough to enact the whole fall in action as we climbed up the stairs.She had fallen just as Jennifer Lawrence had (gif down below) except Jennifer Lawrence fell in front of the whole world and Beatriz had fallen in front of her whole class. So engrossed was I in observing Beatriz that I didn’t realise and tripped over my own dress, in almost the exact same fashion as Beatriz had.The howls of laughter that erupted from both of us at my fall was too much to behold.

I guess it was fall season all around the world. Sarah Hyland tripped while walking to the stage at the Teen Choice Awards.

Oh and then last week, I was walking from university to station to catch the train. I was wearing my new ankle boots and was strutting my strut among the crowd of city people which included girls in business suits and pony tails and 6 inch heels. Mine wasn’t 6 inch. Probably 2 inch. So I wouldn’t trip right? 6 inch Elizabeth would right? Apparently some slippery pamphlety flyer was beneath me and my boots sorta slipped and gave way and my foot went above my knee and my head jerked back , wait I shall include a gif so you can feel like you were there when it happened.

Yeah yeah laugh away!! I was so embarassed that I could feel my face getting red. I didn’t look anywhere, just straight ahead and resumed by my strut like the above cute penguin.(I hope I looked just as cute). Serious question : why do we find it funny when someone slips,trips,falls? Is it because of that sudden clumsy motion of a person’s hands flailing around,legs flying in different directions? That person could injure himself/herself, sometimes resulting in death OKAY?? DON’T LAUGH. That person has already damaged his self-esteem. No need to add insult to the injury.I can still hear your muffled laughter btw.

This post is dedicated to Beatriz. That exchange student from Brazil who made my Fridays less tiresome and more funnysome. You are a sweet and kind friend. Your fall inspired this post so thank you.

When I tell my friends of my parents actively searching for a guy for me, they seem confused. “But how do you know that he will be the one?” You don’t. You make him the one for you.

Arranged marriage is a weird concept to white people. Dating is frowned upon in my culture(Bollywood creates false image of acceptance of love.Those aunties that click their tongues when they see you talking to the opposite gender don’t make the movies.It’s the desi uncle who love masala and spice)and forbidden in my religion. It is hard when you have clash of cultures, religions and people in a group. One of my non-desi non-muslim friend has a boyfriend, one of them is a muslim desi engaged to be married and I am the single muslim desi. So while both of them are busy texting their significant others, I am deciding on what snacks will be awaiting me when I reach home from uni. Not that I am complaining coz hey, the sight of food pleases me just as much. I get all mushy too when I see steaming pizza and we never fight like ever. Food and I are just meant to be.

These days all I hear about are proposals and marriage and my friends getting engaged, my cousins getting engaged, when the marriage date is getting fixed and which aunty is searching for a boy for their girl or a girl for their boy. Maybe I grew up and that is why these topics seem more pronounced to me because all of a sudden the theme changed from career to husbands. And I wasn’t prepared. I am still in the career mode. And while marriage won’t put a full stop to that dream of mine, it will most definitely be a life-changing experience. And I hate changes. Well, changes are good or I would get bored of routine. But not my life change changes. The plaza gets renovated, the apps get updated and my house gets repainted, that’s all cool. But changing house, families, living with new people, it will take ages getting used to it. Even though it has been 5 years since I moved to Aus, I still wake up in the morning and wonder where am I? for a few seconds. If 16 years of living in Dubai did that to me, you can only imagine my reaction 22 years living with my family will have on me. I shall wake up and scream at my husband and ask “Who are youuu??”

My parents will celebrate their 27 years of marriage in October. When white people reach such jubilees in their time of spending together, they get asked what is the secret? Desi people have unlocked the secret ages ago. The secret is live together,STAY together (no matter what, even if the husband is ugly). I can’t say for desi people my generation now though. Divorces are getting common in my area too unfortunately. And as cliché as that sounds, I feel social media is partly to blame. Wives are in competition of which husband gave the best present and who is more romantic and where did which couple celebrate their getaway.You know, that competitive desi mentality lol. Its ruining marriages now.But that is just the tip of the iceberg.Other factors account too.

Now, when I am at that age of what is supposedly every girl’s dream of meeting the one, it doesn’t seem all rosy. Books and movies don’t offer step by step manual.Even if they did, chuck it away and create your own.That doesn’t mean it will be a fairytale story. You got to prepare yourself for the bumpy ride.And I guarantee it will be smooth sailing after for a long long time. The magic word is compromise.

***All opinions stated are mine (ok some might be the influence of a couple of aunties and grandmothers’ advice. I went to a party recently and got heaps and loads of advice on how to handle marriage so yeah.They told me to compromise I replied yolo (not really)).

As much as I enjoy technology and social media, I don’t enjoy the pressure that is associated with it. When I was little, Facebook, Twitter and Instagram didn’t exist. Even internet with its unlimited data, speed and connection was non-existant. The other day, my brothers and I were reminiscing over the fact that back in the days, after our family had dinner, we would disconnect our phone to connect to the internet. Dial-up connection would take ages to connect with its annoying ringtone. Mum would log into msn messenger or Yahoo Chat to talk to my aunt or call my grandma via Voip. We would play internet games but that was only sometimes. Solitaire and Minesweeper were our companions. Oh and who could forget Microsoft Paint? Best times, I tell ya. I know you kids will disagree but let me tell you, we didn’t have to check our phone every two seconds for notifications to blow up our phone on the latest selfie uploaded. Not throwing shade (well kinda,just a lil bit).

This post was inspired by another blogger whose every (literally every, like she doesn’t blog about anything else) blog post is on how many followers she got and OMG she just started her blog and didn’t expect so many follows, likes and all that jazz. I get it. The excitement. The popularity meter spiking up. The comments of congratulations. We are all humans.We like being loved. We like being known we are loved. It boosts our ego and sense of accomplishment. But what we fail to realise is there are others who are not getting followers and likes and all that love. They look at your posts and feel down. No one compliments on your face anymore. For this person,no one does it on social media either. How is that person going to feel?

It is for this reason I am very inactive on Facebook. Not because of lack of likes or comments. I don’t even post on Facebook. I used to be the silent viewer. I used to silently watch who got friends with whom, who was tagging whom on which party that they had, who was checking out at which fancy restaurant, whose profile photo was getting 100+ likes. I didn’t know I was getting affected but suddenly I was planning a meet up or was asking my parents if we could go out to eat and trying to do all the “fun” stuff but whenever I used to hang out, or go out it didn’t seem natural. I didn’t like it. It is because I realised it wasn’t me. It wasn’t who I was. I was the quiet nerdy girl who loved reading books and staying at home. Yes, I like being social and meeting with friends but I couldn’t and didn’t want to do something crazy every week just to compete.So I stopped being the silent viewer. Now I am the ghost. People ask if I am still alive because there is no activity on Facebook. I just holler at them through Whatsapp . I would rather have real talk through Whatsapp then post a status to let the world know I am alive.

And then Instagram popped up and the world went nuts again. I mean Facebook is basically Twitter and Instagram mashed together. You post a status or share something on Twitter and post a photo and get likes and comments on Instagram. Weren’t those features on Facebook already? But no, people loved the 140 word limit because it seemed challenging and OMG filters on Instagram, no but for real, have you tried those filters?Let me tell you, they are plastic surgeon’s app. I connected with a friend on insta and all her selfies she looked different like really different.Eyes bigger, nose thinner,teeth whiter. And I met her in person and she was still the same. Ok and then what’s the deal with food pics. Did you make it yourself? No??? Ohhh the chef at the restaurant made it? Going to a restaurant and eating a fancy meal every week is such a big thing, I should just give you a medal. I personally believe,if you didn’t make the meal yourself, don’t post it. You post selfies on your account,not otheries, why post other’s creations? I get it, it’s your dinner. Click a photo and save it to your camera roll. But no, Instagram IS camera roll. Just post everything.

I am not hating those who do whatever I mentioned above. If you are one of those people, then good on ya (or shall I say food on ya hehe.) Post em delish food,gorgeous selfies, do your thang. All my friends do it, and I support em by liking. But I personally don’t. Well,selfies sometimes.I can’t help it with lighting so good and angle so great.

Real talk tho, always remember, quality over quantity. For bloggers who are blogging for years, or youtubers making videos, do your stuff with passion and don’t worry about followers or likes. It’s hard but don’t. You will gain followers (not an overnight success), the real and genuine ones. Not the follow for follow people. But people who followed you for the content. Who discovered you through your posts/videos. Don’t go chasing people.It will be slow progress but it will be worth it.

WordPress,Instagram,Twitter, Facebook etc., don’t make it easier on you. They show statistics on how successful you are getting. They post notifications on the likes you got on a post. I am not complaining. I enjoy it. What I hate is when we start equating that with success when it shouldn’t be the case. The number of followers/likes does not validate you,your awesomeness. Numbers don’t define you.They never did and they never will.

I tutor English for scholarship exams to year 5’s and year 8’s. It is a rewarding experience I can tell ya. Especially when they pay you. That is the rewarding part. The teaching? Not so much. Jk.

So this year, I got a brother and sister to tutor. The girl is in year 5 and the boy is in year 8. When I do orientation lesson in the first class, I yak away on the two types of essays they will be writing in the exam. I go through all the basics, the do’s and don’ts, the if’s and but’s, the no pencil rule, the formal writing rule, all that. And I can tell, most my kids are actively listening, grasping all the pieces of information I am hurling at them. This boy, however, was just sitting uninterested. He was slouched back, shoulders drooping, sighing in between. For a second, I wondered if he had heard all this before. I mean I tune out the safety instructions they give on the plane because I have heard it so many times. So I ask him, if he has because I don’t want to waste my breath and energy if that is the case. He rolls out his tongue and says no. So I resume with my energy even if it is not having an effect on him. Turns out he is like that. Like a kid who doesn’t want to be there but has to be there.

Throughout the weeks, I tried making his lesson a bit interesting. Interacting with him, asking about his hobbies and what games he likes to play. And although he opened up, he never spoke with animated passion. If you talked to me about something I love, my eyes would be out of its sockets, my mouth would be going non-stop 120 km/hr. But for this kid, he was like an 80 year old weary grandpa who had seen the world and experienced life and was just biding away his time by doing what his parents asked him to.

Slowly slowly I got to know more of him through his writing. For instance his fascination with Ebola. In almost each essay that he wrote, Ebola had to be there whether it related to the topic or not. And no matter how many times I had to tell him off for it, Ebola would still creep in. Now whenever he hands me the essay, I quickly scan through the essay to search for it and smile whenever I see its mention.

He is slowly starting to enjoy our lessons. He smiles a bit now and talks about school,his friends and his teachers. It took him a while but he is opening up. I am hoping I can make him put extra effort on his essays but I don’t want to scare him away. It shall take a bit of time.Before I know it, he will be giving the exam and saying good bye. I wonder that’s how teachers/lecturers must feel. Teaching you for a whole year/semester. Getting used to seeing faces, getting to know students and then all of a sudden, new students, new faces. And one of them sticks to your mind. The different one. Because I know I shall remember this kid and his fascination with the disease Ebola.

I am sooooo tirreeddd!!!Fridays are usually lengthy days at uni for me.I get up at 7:30,get ready, get to station at 8:15 and reach university at 9:00. Head to the library to print out my lecture notes and then to the lecture at 9:30.Lecture runs from 9:30 to 11:30, then an hour break in between,then a tutorial from 12:30 to 1:30, then an hour break and then a lecture from 2:30 to 3:30. On alternate weeks, I have a practical lab from 2 to 5. By the time I head home, its 5/6 in the evening and I am a walking zombie. Except zombies, with their outstretched hands, drone out BRAINS!!BRAINS!! while I mumble SLEEP SLEEP.

So today I got home from uni and before I knew it, I was flat out. I woke up just a couple of minutes before to go to the loo, and remembered I hadn’t posted today.With 2 more hours until midnight, I am like Cinderella, rushing to find mice to turn into coachmen (I am rummaging through my sleep-addled brain for words to make a coherent post).

I have only told my one friend (that I just got to know) at uni about my blog (She will be featuring in a post very soon). I wanted to observe the power of social media. I wanted to see how long it’s going to take before my friends/relatives get to know about my blog via my WordPress,Tumblr,Facebook Page,Twitter or Instagram. I haven’t promoted or gave an inkling to anyone as yet and my family is on the deal as well. It’s hard because if I would tell them, they would be supporting me and actively reading and I would be getting more views than now but I like this too.In fact I prefer this anonymity, the calm before the storm (storm might take years to come lol). I can blog my mind without writing too biased or preferential just because a certain friend/relative is reading. I get too conscious and shy as well. And right now, it’s a small team. My parents, brothers, and you lovely readers. At least I know who will be in my thank you speech when I shall be accepting the Booker or the Pulitzer Prize.

I am thinking of writing twice a week, instead of 5. Reading this post, I am sure you agree with me. I prefer quality over quantity. I would rather put everything into my two posts than write 5 posts of crap. I have 24 hours during weekends that are exclusively mine, to furnish and publish my posts rather than rush through uni, write my posts on train and trams and come home,add my gifs and memes and just give it away. I have been debating for quite some time, but it’s hard to break a promise that I kept with myself. It’s just been 3 weeks. I didn’t even last a month (Cry emoji). I didn’t want to sound like I was getting lazy, or losing motivation because I haven’t. I am still enjoying this. I just want to balance studies, blogging,tutoring and volunteering. At the moment, the balance is tipping heavier towards blogging,tutoring and volunteering.

You know what, I shall write 5 more posts for the next week. So that, at least I shall have fulfilled my promise for a whole month and feel satisfied.Yes, that’s what I shall do.

Instagram : @aaliyah_zahra (Brag about my new blog post here. No, I don’t have food photos/selfies.Shall have a post on that shortly and then I shall post that on insta.I do follow backs.Actually I would love to see your food posts and you.Do follow.)